


Uncanny Valley

by NoOneFrUkingCares



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Ghosts, M/M, Piano, Rain, Showers, a LOT of rain, forest, supernatural stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 01:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOneFrUkingCares/pseuds/NoOneFrUkingCares
Summary: Yixing walks home on a different path one day, and finds himself at the end of a village road, leading towards a completely broken stone bridge that is more crumbling ends than bridge, and a large manor at the end of it. Yet somehow there’s music playing, loud enough to float to his ears but so soft that he barely hears it, and Yixing takes the leap of faith and jumps the bridge. Here, on unfamiliar land that is always rainy and governed by rules not quite familiar to Yixing, something beyond him tells him to stay awhile.





	Uncanny Valley

**Author's Note:**

> This is prompt #0319 for the Give Yixing a Chance Fest.
> 
> I'd like to once again make some apologies, first to the prompter who sent in this prompt that gave me so much inspiration, that I ended up writing too much, bumping into like 5 roadblocks, and having to back it up. Eventually I cleared them, but this fic gave me a bit more trouble than I thought it would, and I'm sorry if it's not up to your expectations. (Also I realised like halfway into the first k of words that I don't know how to write sarcastic Yifan, so I tried my best but he might've fallen short. Sorry about that bit.)
> 
> I also want to apologise to the mods for pretty much being a terrible person in general at this point, I really should've reconsidered so many issues, and thank you both for being so understanding and such great people. This fest is a beautiful thing, and I want to thank you both for bringing me into the world of fests, (since this is the first fest I signed up for).
> 
> Finally, a thank you and an apology to [my beta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/extensive_scribe/pseuds/extensive_scribe), who works too hard making sure this was legible despite her own stuff because I can't spell and I never learned English so all my words are literally stolen from a random fly's brain. I love you.

It’s raining. 

Yixing stares out his window in disdain at the huge blobs rolling down, fat and round as they cling in place for a few seconds before gravity exerts too much pressure and they fall, plopping down like little fat birds during winter, all lined up in a tight row. 

“It’s raining.” Yixing sighs, expressing the softer and sadder mood that the weather tends to bring.

“Don’t worry, it’s not going to bother us.” Yifan also scowls at the wet window, despite his words.

“Easy for you to say.” Yixing retorts, feeling a sudden regret that he forgot his umbrella in his suitcase at school instead of putting it in his bag. “You’re already dead, why do you care if it rains or not?” 

Yifan rolls his eyes, clearly unhappy about Yixing’s characterization. “Wouldn’t have remembered that when you’re always the one talking about it. And you try having a raindrop fall through your body, and come back to tell me that rain is good.” 

Yixing elects to instead just roll his eyes at his best friend, deciding not to continue this conversation so that no one would overhear and misunderstand Yixing to be crazy yet again. His seat neighbor is passed out cold with a newspaper covering his face, so that won’t be a problem, but Yixing would rather not attract more stares than he should. 

Yifan had disappeared somewhere while Yixing was making sure that the banker hadn’t suddenly woken up, and so Yixing turns back to the window, watching the familiar sights slow into view. Despite everything, the greenery has never been this green, and when he breathes in, he imagines that he is breathing in some of the rain that will soon manage to soak into every single bit of life. 

~~~

When people empty onto the platform, there are hands held high, ducking under small bags and purses in a mad rush to the overhang, avoiding the rain with a resolution matched only by the art majors believing that they can finish a piece in an evening. Yixing steps into the rain as well, actually kind of glad that he’s not the only one who forgot an umbrella.

“Hey, how about you do the smart thing and call your parents to pick you up? It won’t take that long for them to drive here, right?” Yifan asks, looking absolutely disgruntled at the raindrops that are, in fact, dropping through him. 

“Yeah, but the point of a surprise visit is to surprise them.” Yixing sighs, not sure exactly what part of the surprise visit Yifan didn’t understand. The rain pours down onto him, but he doesn’t need to run into the shelter of a covering like a helpless sponge.

“Then why did you call them to say that you’re visiting?” Yifan asks, joining Yixing in ducking into an empty corner, to talk without interruption as the rain pitter-patters against hard plastic and metal just on the other side of the wall.

“I didn’t say when, Fan.” Yixing rebukes, checking his phone for the time. Only 11, and the rain seems like it’ll slow down in just a few minutes. “I’ll just walk home when the rain slows a bit, and I saw a shortcut that I could take to get there faster.”

“Alright, you overgrown pile of bones.” A hand ruffles Yixing’s hair as a head solidifies onto Yixing’s shoulder, joining Yixing in watching the rain slow. 

~~~

It was a complete mistake he ever saw it, the little path in the road among trees and tall grasses galore. Yixing had dropped his water bottle on the way to the train station, and it rolled into the grass, forcing Yixing to leave his parents and scavenge for it among the mess. Even though Yifan had been the one to find his bottle, Yixing had found the little path, dirt worn just past the two trees that stand guard on either side, as if marking an archway in. Yixing didn’t have the time luxury to walk in and check it out, but from the direction it heads in, he can tell for definite sure that he’ll end up somewhere closer to his house, perhaps just a few streets shy without having to go around the little forest in front of the train station and the town.

While the rain hadn’t quite stopped, it was no longer dropping down in distinct drops, but in tiny mist-like vapor that just hangs about everywhere. The weather forecast doesn’t say that it seems like it’ll actually stop for a few hours, so might as well go now.   


  
“Let’s go.” Yixing pokes Yifan’s head a few times, the taller having fully slouched over to lean against Yixing.

“Really? But it’s still raining.” Yifan expresses, not making any move to move his head up.

“It’s barely considered drizzling, we can go.” Yixing insists, and Yifan rolls his eyes as he straightens up, following Yixing out.

There’s no one else lingering about the train station, with the fuzzy mist hanging about and lunch calling from home, even the ticket sellers are gone from the counters in the lunchtime lull that lasts just about long enough for a nap before the next train pulls in. Yifan gives him a confused look when Yixing turns left towards the wooded area instead of right towards the empty roads, but doesn’t comment on it. The little dirt path is still just as small and unnoticed as when Yixing last saw it, but this time, he pushes a branch away and steps onto the path.

“Xingxing, this literally looks like the beginning of a bad idea.” Yifan comments, as Yixing steps over a huge fallen branch that was not there the last time he had looked down the path.

“All I need to do is go straight, and there’s no chance I won’t be able to end up near my house.” Yixing retorts, very sure of his logic. The map had shown the main road winding across the bottom edge of the little forested area as a semi-circle, so going straight across would theoretically be a lot faster than it would be to walk around the long way.

“Alright. But if it all goes wrong, I reserve my right to say I told you so early.” Yifan states, shutting up.

It’s quiet in the midst of the forest. There’s not much sound besides of Yixing himself, stepping with muffled steps on the matted dirt, and the slight increase in his inhales as the path starts to climb, and occasionally of the wind rustling the trees. Whenever the breeze blows, a light shower rains down, the droplets on the leaves blown off the trees and down onto Yixing. Yifan huffs every time it happens, but Yixing thinks he rather likes it, the serenity, and the reminder that he’s not quite that isolated, no matter how it feels.

The only unsettling part of the whole thing is that there are no birds. The whole town is almost overrun by birds of several different types, always nearby to whistle a tune or chirp something for someone, anyone to enjoy. There are no birds in the forest, probably all hiding away safe and warm somewhere where it’s far drier than the muggy air that hangs about like an unwanted visitor. Yixing doesn’t quite know what to do with himself in this quiet, not having realized how he associated birds with being home until this moment. So he keeps to the path, and goes on.

The path does not lead to a main road, paved with tar and asphalt. Instead, the path turns from dirt to stone, smooth off-white by the turn of the seasons, leading up once more to a steeper incline. Strange, Yixing doesn’t remember there being two little hills on the main road, but they did have to do a lot of construction to smooth it over. Maybe it’s just because the forest is unaltered that it looks like this.

“Xingxing, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Yifan asks, looks around warily. “Those stones seem to be telling me that we’re going the wrong way.”

“Your sense of direction is worse than mine, Fan.” Yixing replies, not about to be told off. The path was going straight, and he knows where he’s going, alright?

“You walked into a tree once because you wanted to go north.” Yifan retaliates, not bothering to stop Yixing as he continues on.

“You told me that we had to go south when we had to go north. At least I walked into a tree in the right direction.” There’s no real bite in Yixing’s voice as he scans the area. There’s a bit of a fog coming on, overlaying the trees so there’s not much he can see in front of him. The hairs on the back of his neck stand.

“You had to ask someone for directions and we ended up going east.”

Yixing sighs, not wanting to really remember that disastrous day. 

“We’re both horrible at directions, you can stop now.” Yixing cuts Yifan off, not wanting to argue while he can’t see where he’s going. Yifan shrugs, floating forwards, just nearly out of sight to act as an advance warning for if something just appears.

“Dammit.” Yixing hears Yifan whisper into the air, leaves rustling and rain falling just in time for the syllables to drift to him as Yifan stops moving, letting Yixing finally properly catch up.

“What?” Yixing steps forwards into the little clearing-like area that Yifan stopped at, also stopping short next to his best friend. It’s the end of the path, cut off by a quick drop that can’t be more than a few metres across, but seems impossibly deep, especially with the fog hiding the bottom. But there, right in front of him are the ruins of a small stone bridge, with rock looking still seconds from crumbling down and overgrown vines wrapping around the cracks of stone. The other side of this little bridge is visible, similarly ensnared by nature again as well, but there’s not much else Yixing can see beyond that point, and he knows that Yifan was right about this being extremely far in the wrong direction.

“Oh.”

“I’m not going to say I told you so.” Yifan declares, watching Yixing pulling his phone out, pulling up maps.

“Thanks.” Yifan nods, watching as Yixing desperately tries to get his phone to work, so maybe he’ll be able to salvage some part of this long walk by going off the dirt path and directly into the forest.

But his phone doesn’t respond, telling him that he’s out of service range and refusing to work. He  _ should  _ have service though - he’s sure that this place is still in range of the service of the town. Even the compass app doesn’t work properly, jumping him out every time he tries to calibrate it, leaving them truly stranded.

“It’s no good. We’re lost.” Yixing shoves his phone into his bag, feeling hopeless now that this whole journey had been a waste.

“It’s okay. You just have to follow the dirt path out, and then we can either call your parents like normal people or walk the way that won’t get us hopelessly lost.” Yifan suggests, and Yixing sighs, preparing himself to head back. 

Before he takes the first step, however, there’s a note, traveling on the wind as if delivered specifically to Yixing. 

A note? 

It’s middle C. But the pitch isn’t perfect, sounding more like a B flat than a true middle C. As if testing out the air, a few more notes on a piano then slides through the air, like someone testing out a scale, warming up long and thin fingers to be able to jump over the rest of the keys on a keyboard with ease. The first few notes of the song are so familiar yet strangely unrecognizable, but Yixing’s fingers actually move on air, picturing the ivory under his fingertips, ready for him to press and play. Then it drops off, falling into a minor that sounds somehow even more melancholy with the tone that is just slightly off, and by the time the first few notes echo again, Yixing knows that he needs to find the music.

“Xingxing? What in fuck’s sake are you doing?” Yifan’s suddenly close, too close to his face, brooding anger and terror staring straight at Yixing as if he wants to do something. 

“What do you mean? What are you doing?” Yixing parrots back, taking a step back from Yifan. 

“Well, for starters, why are you taking off your bag? You’re acting like you want to jump.” Yixing looks down at his feet, and sure enough, his bag is next to them, instead of on his back like it should be. 

Then it’s like the music somehow swells, so loud that it seems that there is no sound besides the piano crescendo rising up. Yixing sees Yifan’s lips moving, but he can’t hear a word he’s saying. Does it matter what Yifan’s saying, though? It’s just a distraction, a distraction away from finding out where the music comes from, and the answer is on the other side of the bridge.

If he runs and jumps at the last second, there’s no way that Yixing won’t be able to make it across the distance. He’s practiced jumping across far lengths, he can make it across this, what, two, three meters?

Yixing starts backing up, thankful that Yifan’s body is transparent so he can calculate exactly where he’s going to need to jump from. The bridge is decently solid from what he had felt while stepping on it before Yifan got in his way and forced him back, but it’ll be fine.

“Zhang Yixing! You’ve lost your mind!” Yifan exclaims, finally shouting over the music that’s starting to die down, extremely angry.

“What do you mean? I haven’t done anything.” Yixing straightens up, not sure why Yifan’s suddenly so mad.

Yifan sighs, then moves towards Yixing, a lot calmer like his anger had all been fabricated. ”We need to get you out of the rain, your mind is breaking down.” He commands, walking towards Yixing as if to try and herd him away from the bridge. But Yixing has to see what’s on the other side, where is the music coming from?

“My mind’s not breaking down, I just need to find out what’s on the other side of the bridge.” Yifan sighs at this comment, exasperated.

“That’s the problem. You don’t know what’s on the other side, and how do you know you’re going to be able to jump this distance?” Yifan’s voice is grating, irritated, someone who had usually been Yixing’s best supporter turning on him in an instance, as soon as Yixing tries to set his own goals.

“I can do it, I’ve jumped further in the past.” Yixing’s voice comes out a bit too shrill and detached even for himself. Distantly, he thinks he’s acting unreasonably, but the thought is fleeting. He doesn’t quite feel right.

“You physically cannot jump that distance, Xingxing. You’re going to wreck yourself trying.” Yifan insists, completely turned on him. 

“I’m going to make it. You just don’t believe in me.” Yifan’s face twists in a strange way after hearing Yixing say it, and after staring confrontationally at him, he just shakes his head and backs off. 

“Sure. Go try. See if I care if you die.” Yifan steps back, clearing the path for Yixing. Well, if Yifan doesn’t actually care for him, then it doesn’t really matter if they’re friends or not.

Yixing steps back once more, taking in a deep breath. The music is slow, but it’s starting to build up in speed and volume as if urging Yixing on. Go, go, go, go, go. And Yixing takes off.

There’s not a doubt in his head that he won’t be able to make it as he rushes at the edge of the bridge, launching himself off the still strong ruins. It’s so effortless, how all of this is happening, how the notes are whistling together as Yixing arches up into the sky, weightless, no longer bound by the trappings of gravity as he flies.

Then the music stops, coming to a screeching halt without even an echo, leaving him empty, so empty, and uncannily lost. There’s nothing blocking his head to keep him from feeling the wind that tries to blow him back and the weight in his diaphragm dragging him down, and Yixing is forced to confront the inevitable fact that he is falling.

Yixing feels a scream ripping through his throat as he flashes suddenly into a memory, one so old that he didn’t know it was even there. 

It was on a rollercoaster with his mom, the first time they had gone to an amusement park. His dad cited a long cured carsickness to get out of having to accompany them onto the rollercoaster, which his mom was quite excited about. Since his mom always such high compliments about the thing, it was quite thrilling, thick plastic against his chest and stomach, his feet not able to touch the floor when he kicks out, and then slowly, slowly the clacking as they’re pulled up high into the sky to fall. And then, the brief second at the top when they stop and Yixing felt the giddiest, before they rounded over and rushed towards death, pulling fully formed panic out in Yixing’s organs.

It’s the same fear ripping through him right now, visions of what could be at the bottom of the chasm forming quick and racing towards him, especially without the safety of metal and assurance that it’s just fake fear. 

He doesn’t keep falling. Jagged, sharp pain blooms through his leg as Yixing falls onto the ground, hearing a minute crunch under him as he struggles to reconcile the fact that he’s not falling, that he’s fine, with the blooming pain suddenly spreading through his body. Heavens, why did he jump? Yifan is right, why on earth didn’t he listen to him?

“Xingxing, are you okay?” Yifan’s worried face appears next to him, carrying Yixing’s discarded bag that he drops immediately to bend down and look at him.   


“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it,” Yixing gasps out. Maybe he’s crying? But Yifan just shakes his head gently as he brushes off some tears from Yixing’s face.

“I know. Are you okay? What did you hurt?” 

“My leg. I think it might be broken.” Yixing hisses while trying to move it so Yifan can get a better look of the mess that is his appendage, and Yifan nods, confirming his fears.

“It’ll be fine, we just have to get you up,” Yifan tries to tug him up, but as soon as the briefest pressure is put onto Yixing’s leg, he drops back down with a cry.

“Fan, I’m scared.” Yifan doesn’t need Yixing to elaborate on the statement to get all that he’s properly trying to express, familiarity filling in the gaps. And Yixing’s so scared. He’s scared of what’s going to happen next, trapped out here without a way to get help and his leg broken. He’s scared that he’s going to lose Yifan, even if the ghost does have a brave face on right now, and he’s scared that he’ll never get to dance again.

“There’s a house just up ahead, there’ll be people who can help. You just have to get there.” Yifan encourages, picking up Yixing’s bag and slinging it over his own back.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk or crawl.” Yixing states, trying his best to move his leg even the slightest bit, but being forced to stop at the pain that shoots through it.

“Wrap your arms around my neck.” Yifan orders, bending down towards Yixing. Yixing obeys, and seconds later, he’s lifted into the air, barely able to feel Yifan carrying him. The way his leg jolts at the sudden action makes him hiss, but then Yifan starts gliding forwards and Yixing thinks that he greatly prefers this to the alternative.

“You’re so heavy, you overgrown bag of muscles.” Yifan groans, playing up the exhaustion to try and make Yixing feel better. “I guess they’re not all just there for show.” 

“Thank you.” Yixing might be leaning into a mass of cold, but he feels safe. Yifan floats over the bumpy dirt road with an ease that’ll never be replicated by anyone alive, no matter how they may try, and Yixing shudders at the thought of having to drag himself over those rocks and stones, which he very much would’ve had to do if Yifan wasn’t there to help.

“Thank your ancestors for ending up here.” Yifan snarks, and Yixing smiles, settling more comfortably into his embrace.

Slowly, the house that Yifan speaks about comes into view as they move further and further from the bridge, looming in the distance like an omen. And not particularly a good one. 

Metal wrought against stained wood hold up the house, forming a tall dark structure that looks more like a manor than a home. Unlike the broken bridge ends, the house is completely devoid of plant life growing on it, and even the slight area surrounding it has no plants, just broken dirt that’s turned into mud. 

It’s still eerie with no birds, but now there isn’t even the sound of Yixing’s footsteps, just of his quiet breathing as they approach the dark house, Yifan gliding up the stairs in a slope instead of disjointed steps. Yixing doesn’t want to be here, and almost everything in his body is telling him that it’s a bad idea, this house and this forest, and the way the rain starts up into light drizzles as soon as they’re both safe under the covering. 

“Now, press the doorbell.” Yifan says, moving Yixing close to the object in question. Yixing shakes his head, remembering a previous incident where Yifan had helped. 

“Put me down, I’ll stand up and ring it,” Yixing says, knowing that to be necessary, but also extremely reluctant to actually do so. No normal person takes in someone who is at their doorstep with a broken leg and no sign of getting there or pressing the bell. 

“You’re just injuring yourself more than necessary.” Yifan protests, moving Yixing directly in front of the doorbell, dangling the prize in front of him.

“Fan, please just put me down. I can do it. Remember the Kim boy?” Yifan hesitates and then sighs, remembering the younger dancer also in Yixing’s major who had had the unfortunate luck of accidentally encountering Yifan while having a mental breakdown. It was the dead of night and Yixing had thought no one would be awake, which was why he had asked Yifan to grab a cup of water in the first place. Long story short, Jongin saw a floating cup of water and completely freaked out, so Yixing and Yifan updated their policy on having Yifan do things and act as a supernatural force.

Yifan lets him down as gently as possible, dropping Yixing’s bag next to him. Yixing uses his arms to pull himself the few centimeters to the wall frame, finding even that a horrible exertion. Then the hardest part, actually getting up.

“I’ll pull you up if you want.” Yifan offers, not much else he could do without making it seem like Yixing had the help of supernatural powers in getting to this location.

Yixing is sorely tempted to agree, but then the person inside would be suspicious. So he shakes his head, puts his good left leg onto the floor, and pulls himself up slowly with the doorframe. 

It hurts, even the slightest tremor in his leg hurts worse than anything he’s ever felt, Yixing imagining bone shards sticking into his flesh with each move, but he hasn’t come this far without being able to stand a little pain. Still, his arms are aching with the effort of slowly pulling himself up, and Yixing adds a mental reminder to double down on arm exercises as soon as this is all over. Then he’s finally standing, his full weight against the sturdy frame, right leg uselessly propped up against the floor, but he’s finally standing. 

With a bit too much effort, Yixing pin-points the maroon button, and pushes it with his full weight.

The doorbell has no effect at first, but then the sound blooms, rising from a huge and low boom of the striking of a gong, triggering smaller chimes and notes that still all sound just as unfriendly as the first. The chorus of the musical melody isn’t quite over when Yixing hears the sound of several locks opening, clicking open one by one, the tones of an executioner's blade against air.

Then the door opens and Yixing finds himself staring up at a man in a pristine black suit, white gloves and coattails pressed, perhaps the height of Yifan. He stares down at Yixing, judgement and haughtiness from every muscle in his face. And perhaps, just perhaps, probably a trick of the light, Yixing sees his eyes flicker to Yifan standing right behind him for less than a second, and then they're back on him, devoting his full attention towards Yixing standing there.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but can you please help me?” Yixing asks, more like squeaks out, and the man opens the door wider. 

In a moment of sudden forgetfulness, Yixing shifts his full weight to his right leg, only remembering his issue as soon as he steps down. The sudden pain that shoots through his leg is terrifying, and Yixing shuts down completely. The last thing he hears is Yifan and a different voice shouting in unison, but he’s gone before he feels that he’s falling.

~~~

“How are you feeling?” Yixing groans. He feels like his head is stuffed with cotton, wrapping up his brain and his tongue, shoved down his vocal cords and keeping him from being able to fully lift his eyelids and speak.

“Oh, right, have some water.” The same deep voice places a cup of water into Yixing’s grasp, and he finally forces his eyelids open to sit up, attempting to scoot his leg back but encountering a heavy resistance. 

“Oops. I should help you sit up first, shouldn’t I?”

It’s the man who opened the door, except now he’s dressed in a casual hoodie. He takes the cup of water from Yixing and places it on top of a side table before moving a hand behind Yixing’s back and helping him, slowly, slowly sit up. As soon as the man moves his hands away, Yixing grabs the cup of water and chugs the whole thing, not realizing how thirsty he was until that moment. The cotton in his throat and mouth dissipates, and Yixing swallows the refill too, finding his mind clearing up as well. 

“Thank you. But where am I? What happened?” Yixing asks, mind a blur. The last clear things he remembers are Yifan getting off the train with him in the rain, and a slight drizzle starting as he rings the doorbell, praying for help.

“You’re at our house. And I don’t know how you got here, but your leg wasn’t the prettiest of things when I found you at the doorstep.” The man replies, watching Yixing start to look around the room, waking up.

The walls are the brightest shade of honey yellow that Yixing could imagine, but still slightly muted in light like the real substance. There are things painted in the honey, bees and sheep and stars swimming, slowly moving through the traps.

“Oh.” Yixing replies lamely, not sure what to say. The room looks just like a normal bedroom, and he’s tucked nicely into lime green sheets, and this mysterious stranger sitting in an armchair by his bedside. Yifan is nowhere to be seen.

“Well, I’m Park Chanyeol, nice to meet you.” Chanyeol holds a hand out to shake, and Yixing takes it, bowing as low as he can in gratitude. 

“I’m Zhang Yixing, thank you for saving my life.” Yixing thanks, getting the feeling that if this house he sits in wasn’t here, he would be dying right now.

“Okay, it looked bad but you weren’t going to die. It was just a bad looking gash, you’ll be up and walking in no time.” Chanyeol brushes off the thanks, a bit of an uncomfortable look on his face. 

“Well, then just thank you for saving me in general then, alright?” Yixing compromises, and Chanyeol nods, a smile clinging onto his face.

“I can accept that.” Chanyeol agrees, clapping his hands together as if to settle the conversation. “It’s lunchtime, do you want some food?” 

His stomach growls and Yixing winces. “Yes, please.”

“Alright.” Chanyeol gets up to reveal that this whole time he had been, not sitting on an armchair as Yixing had thought, but a wheelchair with deceptively fancy armrests, “It’s best that you not move your leg for now, so it’ll be able to heal faster, which is why I got you a wheelchair to use just for two or three days until you’re fine.” 

“Oh, thank you,” Yixing says, not sure how best to respond. Chanyeol has been so caring, and just seems like an all-around nice guy. So why does he keep feeling something off about the whole situation? It’s probably just because he’s not completely sure how he got here in the first place, it’ll get better after his memories clear up.

“I’m going to lift you into the chair, since it doesn’t seem like you can really move on your own. Is that okay?” Yixing nods, pushing the blankets off himself to help Chanyeol with the process. He also discovers that he’s wearing shorts that he’s never seen before, and that there’s a plaster on his leg, keeping it rigid straight.

“Did you put my leg into this plaster?” Yixing asks, watching as Chanyeol pulls up the leg prop on the wheelchair to help accommodate Yixing. Well, seeing that there’s a cast on his leg really explains why he wasn’t able to pull his leg back to sit up.

“Yeah. I had some medical training before, and I’m sorry about taking off your pants, but I washed them since they were a bit dirty.” Chanyeol explains, bending down towards Yixing.

“It’s fine, and thank you for doing it.” Yixing says he reads Chanyeol’s cues, lifting his arms up and wrapping them around Chanyeol’s neck as hands go under his legs to lift him up, and then Chanyeol’s neatly depositing him onto the wheelchair, letting go of Yixing to let him shift into a more comfortable position. 

“No problem.” Chanyeol rounds the back to grab ahold of the handles before starting to push Yixing forwards, going straight through the open door and turning right with a familiarity etched into the steps. “Do you know how to use a wheelchair to get around? We don’t have an automated one.”

“Yeah, I know a few people who use wheelchairs.” Yixing says easily, resting his arms on the fancy armrests. “I tried it before, and I think it’s simple enough.”

“That’s cool. What school do you go to?” Chanyeol asks, slipping into the polite formalities conversation.

“SM Academy.” Yixing volunteers the information, finding something nagging at his brain. If he just remembers a bit more, something’s going to fall into place.

“Isn’t that the really good school for the arts?” Yixing nods, the awe and amazement in Chanyeol’s voice rivaling his own when he found out that he had gotten accepted in the first place.

“Yeah. I’m majoring in dance, but I can also play a few instruments.” Yixing says, noticing more and more drawings around the walls of this brilliantly painted cream hallway, most around his current eye level. And then he realizes, a train of thought taking him straight to the beginning of this journey. “Oh, I think I was on my way back to surprise my parents with a visit.”

“Cool. Where do they live? It can’t be far if you were crawling to this doorstep.” 

“I don’t know. I have their address written down somewhere on my phone, but I didn’t memorize it.” Yixing considers for a moment, and then, like a cartoon character being beaten with an extremely heavy and comically huge item, Yixing’s memory finally gets the chance to hit him with an idea, the other memories still surrounded by a slight piano melody, safeguarded away by the misdirection every time he tries to think about it.

“Hey, Chanyeol?” Yixing twists around to look Chanyeol in the eye.

“Yeah?” Chanyeol meets his gaze with almost as much intensity as Yixing put into it, actually igniting some fears that Chanyeol would accidentally push him straight into a wall, but not enough to turn back to see where they’re going.

“Did you see a bag with me at the door? It’s black, a bit worn, and has my stuff inside.” Yixing asks.

“I did. I was just a bit more concerned about you falling down than your bag, so I think I left it in the foyer. Want me to get it for you?” Chanyeol replies, and Yixing shakes his head no, gratefully.

“I can get it myself, you’ve already done so much for me today.” Chanyeol nods in understanding, figuring out where Yixing’s coming from in terms of these regards. 

Yixing turns back with this reassurance just in time to see the slight ramp incoming, leading down to a slightly lower platform before another, and another and another, acting like a staircase but with ramps. 

“This house is really accessible for a wheelchair,” Yixing comments, something actually prompting him to speak for once. And now that he says it, it’s true. Wider doorways, ramps leading everywhere with incredibly smooth carpets and floors?

“Yep. It was actually built for a wheelchair user in mind.” Chanyeol says, pushing Yixing off the ramp-case and into a different long hallway, this one sky blue, but different amounts of layers of paint creating a look that actually feels like a sky, or maybe the reflection of one in a pond. “There’s a ramp to more or less everywhere in this house, but there are some stairs so someone doesn’t have to run up 9 ramps to get to the second floor.”

The kitchen that Yixing’s wheeled into is not painted ceiling to floorboard. Instead, it’s nearly tiled ceiling to floorboard except for the wall closest to the door, which is painted with the same tile pattern. If Yixing had the right to call it a monstrosity, he would, but unfortunately his decoration rights have long been revoked after a failed birthday party surprise.

“Anyways, do you want anything particular to eat?” Chanyeol asks, pushing Yixing to the kitchen counter before rounding it to the other side, feeling the air near a pot before deeming it actually cool enough to touch. “Since it’s a bit dark, I decided to make some noodles, I hope you’re fine with that.”

Yixing nods, almost salivating at the thought of finally no longer needing to take care of himself and scramble around for crumbs to swallow down, and the idea of homemade food is such a good one that even if Chanyeol served him the worst slop he’s ever seen in life, he’ll probably still take it gladly and cry. “Yeah, I’m completely fine with whatever you have.”

“Cool.” Then Chanyeol fills his bowl with the best tasting noodles he’s ever tasted, and maybe this might just be heaven.

~~~

The honey room that Yixing woke up in is apparently now dubbed his, and there he had retreated for bedtime, with his backpack and a candle in tow. 

Now, he has it open on top of the bed, checking his stuff to see if there’s anything missing, and there’s not, but there’s not much use for anything besides maybe some spare underwear. There’s no service nor electricity out here, Chanyeol saying something about them being too far out into the middle of nowhere for anyone to bother connecting them to the rest of civilization, which is why his phone and laptop are more or less useless at this point. It’s not too bothersome though. There wasn’t much that he was using his phone and laptop for anyways, and even though apparently he didn’t write his parents’ address on his phone, he’ll figure out where he was headed eventually.

Spending most of the day with Chanyeol was delightful, and it seems more and more like Chanyeol is just a really nice person who hasn’t had much of a chance to speak to others, and just wants some company. He’s a bit older, and keeps referring to someone else who lives in this huge house, but Yixing’s seen nothing but shadows. He did manage to learn a bit more about the house and about Chanyeol, but ultimately nothing that he really wants to know, such as what had happened with the bridge.

Yifan still isn’t back, and while it’s not the first time Yixing’s spent a night in an unfamiliar place without him, it feels strange, almost like he’s without a barrier of protection, like he’s missing a part of a limb. He hopes that Yifan is okay, wherever he is, if only so this uneven feeling would dissipate. 

Sounds of a conversation drift up from the crack in the door that Yixing apparently didn’t close enough, the deep rumbles of Chanyeol, pausing oh so often as if having a conversation with a silent person. Probably the other person who lives here. He doesn’t know why, but Yixing blows out the candle at once, not willing to betray the fact that he’s awake and eavesdropping, even though they’re clearly both so far away that Yixing can’t actually make out any words, just the fact that there is a conversation happening.

Then a door closes somewhere else in the manor, and the conversation ends as well, leaving nothing but just a strip of light running across the carpet. Yixing sighs and sets his laptop and phone in the drawer of the bedside table, before wheeling his chair over to close the door. Whatever much of the conversation there had been was long gone, and it’s better not to dally with an open door.

The rain picks up again as soon as Yixing closes the door, slamming against the windows harder, and seemingly so much louder without any type of distraction to keep Yixing from thinking about it. 

And he’s suddenly so alone, surrounded by a pool of honey blue, almost white in his eyes at this point, drowning in the dark blue of the unknown.

Yixing sits on a wheelchair that isn’t his, clothes that leave his body cold, listening to the rain falling like it wishes to pierce through the windows and straight through him. Then the whole room lights up for a moment, darkness canceled out by the light, and then it’s suddenly all dark once again, a blast of thunder following. Yixing stares out the window, hoping for another strike, more light to burn his retinas and help him see what he’s looking for.

The strike never comes, and Yixing shuts the curtain to avoid disturbing his own sleep before wheeling the chair back over to the bed and climbing into the lime green sheets like how he had practiced, feeling his body melt as he’s finally allowed to relax. 

He dreams of a boy, delicate and lithe, painting in time with the rain from the blood of Yixing’s leg, a self-portrait, faint piano guiding him along. The song ends just as he turns back to look at Yixing properly, masterpiece nearly finished, and Yixing wakes up with no recollection of anything at all.

~~~

Yixing wheels himself downstairs in the morning, half following the directions Chanyeol had given him yesterday for the way to the dining room and half following the sound of Chanyeol’s voice, echoing slightly through the house. Today, it’s storming, blowing gusts that hit the walls like they have a personal vendetta against them, making sure that no one would be able to come in or leave. Not that Yixing could anyways in his current state.

“Morning.” Chanyeol greets him with a smile as soon as Yixing pulls open one of the double doors to the huge dining hall, containing a long table stretching almost the length of an entire hallway within the room, ceiling painted with different types of dawn and dusk, rosy-fingered and golden blooms as well as purple dilutions and orange mixtures. It’s a magnificent room, one of the best out of the many rooms Chanyeol had shown him so far, brilliant no matter which way you look.

Chanyeol sits on the right side of the head of the table at the end of the table closer to the door, the left side’s chair removed probably for Yixing to be his wheelchair in, and the seat at the head occupied by a silver-haired boy. The boy turns around at the sound of the door opening and Yixing finds himself face to face with one of the prettiest people he’s ever seen, delicacy emphasized with the mole above his pretty mouth yet quiet strength visible in his eyes.

“Good morning,” Yixing says on autopilot, not really able to take his eyes off the silver-haired boy even as he slowly wheels the wheelchair to the seat.

“Yixing, this is Byun Baekhyun, the owner of this house. Baekhyunnie, this is Yixing.” Chanyeol introduces as Baekhyun holds a hand out in invitation.

“Nice to meet you, Baekhyun,” Yixing says, taking the hand, delicate as it seems, shaking it just as gently.

“He says it’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Yixing looks at Chanyeol in confusion, perhaps the first time properly taking his eyes off since entering the room, as Baekhyun releases his hand and reaches for something behind his back.

  
“Baekhyun has a bit of an illness, so he gets sick and injured quite often, and so he can’t speak. I’m sorta like his caretaker.” Chanyeol explains, as Baekhyun pulls out a whiteboard and a marker, spinning the marker on his fingers before pulling the cap off and sticking it onto the back in one swift move.

“Nice to meet you!” He writes, adding a little smiley face under the delicate lettering, and immediately Yixing feels at ease in a way he somehow hasn’t with Chanyeol. Then he rubs off the ink, and scribbles down something else. “We don’t really go out, so it’s always nice to see someone besides this loser.” He gestures at Chanyeol, and Chanyeol frowns and starts to protest.

“You don’t exactly look much better, pipsqueak.” Chanyeol ruffles Baekhyun’s hair, messing it up and sticking it up in all directions. 

“Your ears are fat.” Baekhyun retaliates, patting his hair back down as he writes, multitasking.

Chanyeol, however, doesn’t defend himself or his ears as he sits down, instead looking at Yixing, maybe for a rebuttal on his behalf. Then Baekhyun turns to him as well, leaving Yixing to quietly flounder for a moment. These two are clearly close to each other in a way that requires almost no words, but he can’t be sure that whatever insult he thinks of won’t offend either or them and leave him outside in the pouring rain.

In the end, he gives up.

“You’re both cool?” 

Chanyeol snorts at the same time Baekhyun beams at him, making a smile that actually seems to stretch from ear to ear, and he reaches a hand over to settle on top of Yixing’s as his other hand scribbles something down.

“You’re even cooler.” 

And even though that doesn’t really make much more sense than what Yixing had put in, it certainly makes him feel a lot better. 

~~~

After breakfast, Baekhyun quickly excuses himself to retreat into a part of the manor that must be his, and Chanyeol continues on with his room tour, still only about a third of the way through. That fault can mostly be attributed to Chanyeol trying to explain as much as possible about one room as possible, including all the details and little stories he could remember, which could last either minutes or even hours if they get to a really good one. 

Yixing doesn’t really mind. It’s nice seeing Chanyeol getting so excited and passionate, injecting his energy physically into the stories he tells. It’s certainly much more fun listening to a tour guide than it would’ve been for Yixing to wander around alone, and now he has a lot of anecdotes to be able to mark down his memory path.

“So, this room is one of my favorites, even if I don’t really go in here much.” Chanyeol knocks on a plain wooden door, a fond look coming over his face as he opens the door and lights the candelabra in here, just missing a patch of darkness. Yixing rolls in slowly, a bit in awe and a bit completely filled with envy, as they step into the most gorgeous instrument room Yixing’s ever seen. There’s maybe a wall of guitars, and a full drum set, literally any instrument you can think of, it would be in there. But there’s no piano, and it seems to be one of the few places in the whole manor that had not been painted, leaving the wood visible on the walls.

“You said that you play some instruments. Can you play something for me?” Chanyeol asks almost shyly, watching Yixing take in the beauty that this instrument room.

“Sure.” Yixing draws out the answer, still rolling forwards to gently brush a hand against the many instruments, all so beautiful. He stops in front of the guitar wall, and grabs the one closest to himself, a plain guitar with the normal design, nothing fancy, but completely tuned and perfection. He strums a single note, legs wanting to move into a position they are not able to within the leg cast, so Yixing has to settle for just shifting his torso slightly into a more comfortable position. 

“I’m better at the piano, do you have a piano around here?” Yixing asks, wondering if he had made it seem too obvious, what his goal is.

“No. I think we had one, but that was a long time ago.” Chanyeol explains, and Yixing nods an agreement, turning away disappointed. But the piano music can wait for just now. 

Yixing plucks out a simple tune, before closing his eyes and remembering a different tune. Maybe he had heard it on piano, or maybe he had made it up, but his fingers find the right strings and his eyes follow their motion, playing it once, then altering it the second time around, and then smoothing out a few last details for the third round. 

He had nearly forgotten that he was not alone in the room when a different guitar joined in the mix, and Yixing looks up to see Chanyeol smiling back at him, guitar in hand and melody interweaving. It’s somewhere between this and the next few songs that Baekhyun sneaks in, swipes of white across his sleeve and dried blue paint on his hands, as he curls up on the floor in the middle of an extremely large beanbag, watching as Yixing and Chanyeol play together.

Eventually, Baekhyun’s eyes start to shutter close, and Chanyeol whispers his apologies as he hangs his guitar back up and picks Baekhyun up instead, intending to put him into bed to properly rest, leaving Yixing alone.

Yixing plays a few more songs on his own, but it doesn’t feel just right without Chanyeol playing alongside him, pulling these melodies together almost effortlessly by making things seemingly on the spot. Instead of trying to continue on, Yixing rolls himself out the door and down the hall, trying to figure out what exactly he’s searching for now, if there’s something, anything to find.

After quite a few mediocre and similar looking rooms, Yixing stumbles into a hallway of mirrors behind a simple door. The other side of the hall of mirrors is a different hallway, but the walls are all completely white here. Instead of color, they’re painted with drawings, unfinished ones of so many things. There are dragons and koi jumping out as if free to actually do so, and grass and trees and flowers and plants, blossoming, all growing into themselves.

It’s a stunning place. 

When Yixing dreams that night, he stands next to the manor, on the front porch under the overhang. There are bloody footprints walking themselves up the stairs and to the front door, but only of the left foot. There’s heavy fog, heavy like the amount that was there when he had arrived, preventing him from seeing much further into the distance, only the dirt path stained with blood that the pouring rain soon starts to wash away. Yixing follows the footsteps down the stairs, preparing to step into the rain, touching one of the painted plants growing on the balcony, his hand coming away slick with water and not paint. Before he gets to walk out to recover what he had lost, a figure appears in the distance fog, lithe and approaching, to the background music of a slightly off-tune piano, with the same song that had been playing in his head all day. 

~~~

Yixing wakes up with the harrowing thought that, “That must be Baekhyun!” but no traces of the dream to match that thought to, the last trace of it slipping away like fog.

Once again, it’s still raining, a light spring shower, perfect for watering those gorgeous flowers, if they don’t drown first. Yixing wheels himself to the dining room where only Chanyeol is sitting today, saying something about Baekhyun not feeling particularly well with the weather. It’s a bit of a shame, Yixing would like to get to know him better. 

Chanyeol says something about needing to fix something outside and Yixing watches him go, not envying him in the rain. There’s not really anything to do besides exploring the rest of this huge manor on his own, and since Chanyeol and Baekhyun said that he could explore, he’s going to explore. 

Barely a morning had passed and Yixing finds himself back in the music room, having unconsciously ended up there because of a pull he didn’t know he could feel. In the middle of a progression, Baekhyun pads in, looking a bit like he should spend a few more hours in bed, sleeping off years of suffering.

“Morning.” Yixing smiles at him, and Baekhyun barely nods in response. Instead, he gets down onto the floor right next to Yixing’s wheelchair, making himself comfortable on a pile of pillows as he looks up at Yixing expectantly. Yixing isn’t a mind reader, but he can certainly see that Baekhyun isn’t in the best of moods, and that he wants to listen to some music. Yixing nods, raising the guitar once again and starting to play. 

Over the course of songs, as Yixing slowly goes through the large collection of all the songs he’s ever learned and heard, Baekhyun starts to move closer. 

First it’s just a slight adjustment, moving his head closer to Yixing, eyes still closed. Then it’s Baekhyun moving so his face is almost directly by Yixing’s foot, so he ends up looking down into Baekhyun’s calm face. After a while, Baekhyun gives up pretending that he’s moving in his sleep unconsciously, pillowing his arms on the armrest of Yixing’s chair and resting his head on that. He stares up into Yixing’s eyes like he’s trying to decipher the language of the stars, a thousand mysteries hidden inside. 

Yixing admits that it’s a bit hard for him to play like this with such intense staring, but he keeps playing, at least until Baekhyun’s scooting closer to Yixing once again, disturbing Yixing’s hands, forcing him to lift up the guitar as Baekhyun makes his head comfortable in Yixing’s lap. After he’s done, Baekhyun stares up at Yixing once again, as if trying to ask why he stopped playing, so Yixing obeys, starting up again.

Slowly, over the course of the hour, Yixing watches Baekhyun slowly fall asleep, eyes gently falling close despite Baekhyun’s best efforts to fight the exhaustion. When it looked like Baekhyun was more or less completely asleep, Yixing starts singing. He starts with a soft voice, no need to wake Baekhyun if not necessary, and Baekhyun’s eyelids shut a bit tighter after that. 

Yixing tries once to stop playing, to put down the guitar and take off the sweater he borrowed from Chanyeol to drape over Baekhyun’s shoulders, but then Baekhyun shifts and Yixing starts playing once again. 

It’s almost comparable to the way his cousin had acted with his baby, carrying her and singing and swaying as she slept, too scared to stop for the fear that she would wake up. But it’s more like not trying to wake up a puppy who had fallen asleep on your lap, Yixing thinks, watching how Baekhyun sleeps peacefully.

In the end, Yixing plays and sings a singular song on repeat until Baekhyun gently wakes up again, blinking slightly as he first looks up at Yixing, eyes unseeing. It takes a bit longer for him to wake up properly, a smile coming onto his face as he listens to Yixing repeat the song for the umpteenth time, and then sits up properly to stretch as Yixing finally switches songs. About as soon as Yixing started that one, however, Baekhyun stands up and waves a hand for Yixing to follow, cutting him off.

“You want me to follow?” Yixing asks, putting down the guitar on the floor as Baekhyun nods and slips out the room. Oh. He can just put the guitar up later.

Baekhyun walks slowly, keeping pace with Yixing’s rolling speed. After a bit, Yixing thinks he actually recognizes the hallway they’re going down, but then they turn and he’s lost again. But then they turn again and suddenly they’re at the other end of the half-painted hallway, a tarp spread on the ground and paint cans and paint brushes lying around haphazardly, nothing started just yet.

“Oh. Did you paint these?” Yixing asks, watching Baekhyun fumble with the tarp for something under it. Baekhyun nods.

“They’re all so beautiful.” Yixing doesn’t dare to touch the wall in case the paint isn’t completely dry, but looks closely at the newest addition to the wall since the last time he had come. There’s a bird rising up in flight on purple wings, seeming like it would really fly out the wall and out into real air if Baekhyun just let it.

“Thank you.” Baekhyun holds up his whiteboard, which he was apparently looking for, a smile in gratitude on his lips. “You put up with me disturbing you playing for so long. Do you want to watch me paint?” 

“Sure.” Yixing agrees, even though he’s not entirely sure why. Watching paint get applied to the wall sounds only slightly more interesting than watching it dry, but he obediently parks himself in a space where he won’t be interfering with Baekhyun working, and watches Baekhyun start. 

Watching paint get applied to the walls is actually infinitely times more interesting than it is watching it dry. Baekhyun is clearly a master of this art, managing to lay out things perfectly that by the time he’s only half done, Yixing could already tell what he’s making. Right now he just applies details to an apple mid-drop, the beginnings of what could be a stump or a tree trunk next to it as if Baekhyun hadn’t quite decided what to do. The apple starts a familiar sounding piano tune, but it fades as soon as it comes, probably just something from his memories.

Baekhyun’s applying some yellow to the apple when Yixing gets an idea and rolls himself away. He’s working on the tree bottom when Yixing comes back, the apple completed and sweeping with wide strokes of brown. It’s thankful that he is, instead of doing fine details because he starts when he hears Yixing strum the guitar once, the huge brush jerking slightly up as Baekhyun turns around. Yixing offers Baekhyun a smile, and Baekhyun returns one, turning back to his artwork with renewed vigor. 

By the time Chanyeol appears to call them for lunch, the tree stands majestically tall, Baekhyun standing on the wheelchair to be able to do some detailing for the leaves at the very top, Yixing playing on the floor, holding the wheelchair against the wall with his legs so it doesn’t suddenly move and cause Baekhyun to fall.

~~~

Baekhyun takes a pill and a cup of medicine like a shot, chugging it down and chasing it immediately with water, a disgusted look on his face as he slightly shudders.

“I’m going to go lie down so this can digest.” Baekhyun writes, taking his leave gracefully, shuddering once in a while as apparently the aftertaste of the medicine hits him.

“He’s being dramatic. It tastes nasty, but not that bad.” Chanyeol scoffs, receiving a rude hand sign from Baekhyun in return before the doors close behind him.

Chanyeol’s hair is still wet but significantly drier than earlier, when he walked up with puddles pooling under him at every step. Baekhyun had practically chased him out of the hallway by flicking paint, very personally offended by the water on the tarp. From the large blotches of water connected by trails of water on the carpets, it seemed like Chanyeol went straight upstairs after coming in, not even stopping to wonder if dripping water all over the nice carpets was a good or bad idea. 

“Well, do you want me to take your cast off?” Chanyeol asks, clearing things up. 

“Really? Don’t you need to wear it for a while so it can heal?” Yixing’s not a medical expert by any sense of the word, but this seems a bit quick.

“I only put it on so that you could heal the wound, it’ll be fine to take it off now.” Chanyeol explains, calling from where he’s putting the dishes in the sink.

“Then can you take it off?” Yixing calls back, and Chanyeol comes out of the kitchen with a remarkably large pair of scissors.

“Of course!”

Despite what Chanyeol implies, the cast removal does not take place in the dining room. It takes place in a glory of a bathroom, rose tiles with a glass shower and a salmon pink tub big enough to potentially fit five people, give or take two. Chanyeol sets himself down next to a pair of slightly smaller scissors.

“Ready?” Chanyeol smiles up at Yixing, the huge pair of scissors he holds making him seem slightly deranged.

“Why would I have to prepare for taking my cast off?” Yixing asks, and Chanyeol considers the question.

“That’s fair. Can you turn your foot to one side?” Yixing obeys, and Chanyeol immediately blocks his view of the leg, leaving no clue to Yixing as to what is going on besides the sound of hard snipping. 

“And the other side?” It sounds almost slightly like Chanyeol might be trying to cut through his leg, but Yixing has complete and full trust in him. If that is a bad idea is to be seen, but for now he sits up and picks up the smaller pair of scissors, wiping away imaginary sweat.

There’s a bit more snipping, this time not sounding like he’s trying to crunch his way through a particularly good piece of hard candy, and then Chanyeol’s leaning back, pulling off one half of the cast like revealing a dish that had been covered.

“Oh wow.” Yixing wiggles his toes, glad to find that they still wiggle properly. His foot flexes properly, and so does his knee, which is a huge relief all around. It’s also a surprise how well the gash had healed, there’s not even the faint pink of newly grown skin. “It healed really fast.”

“Yep. Does your leg work properly? Can you twist it?” Yixing nods in response, demonstrating all the proper moves his foot is supposed to do again, flexing his foot, pointing his toes, bending and straightening, and turning in and out. 

  
“It works fine. Thank you.” Yixing thanks, and Chanyeol just smiles, taking the two discarded halves of Yixing’s cast and dropping them straight into a trash can.

“Great. Try walking then.” Yixing nods, steadily getting up. It’s a bit weird how Chanyeol seems to be treating him like someone who broke a leg instead of someone with just a gash, but it’s completely healed so he probably shouldn’t be doubting Chanyeol’s power. 

His leg fully bears his weight, and Yixing takes a few steps gently.

“Nice, it seems like-holy shit.” Yixing jumps onto Chanyeol, checking the strength of his legs. Nothing had changed, and it almost seems like his legs are feeling better than they had before, after being able to rest for a little bit and not have to exert themselves. 

Chanyeol just barely managed to keep from falling over onto the floor, staggering back under Yixing’s weight, stupid grin on his face most likely reflecting Yixing’s. As soon as he recovers his balance, however, he holds onto Yixing’s waist, just barely alerting Yixing to what he plans to do with a nod and a smirk that comes onto his face.

“Thank you for everything.” Yixing laughs, as Chanyeol spins him around, weightless, breathless, so sturdy on the ground. It seems so familiar, but why? 

“No need to keep thanking me, Yixing. People just need to be spun once in a while.” Chanyeol responds, setting Yixing gently back onto the ground on his feet. 

People just need to be spun once in awhile. It wasn’t those exact words, but the meaning is the same. Then the words snap into place as Yixing is tossed into a memory of a particular day in a park, classes ended and Yixing fully exhausted. There were no others in the park, which was probably why Yifan felt secure enough to do what he did.

Yixing was just sitting on the grass, fully exhausted as he clung onto Yifan’s arm in pleading for forgiveness of his actions, whatever they were. Yifan spent a good deal of time pretending Yixing didn’t exist before suddenly and standing up roughly, dragging Yixing up from the ground by the arm still attached to his own. As he dangles just barely above the ground, Yixing felt a sort of giddiness that drags maniacal laughs out of his throat, especially when Yifan floats higher and lower in careless bumps, still seeming to pretend Yixing doesn’t exist. Then in a move that surprised both Yixing and a flock of birds in the streets, Yifan somehow swung Yixing up in the air, giving him flight. And for just a moment, he was floating, suspended, no longer subject to the laws of nature. But gravity remembered its place and dragged Yixing back down into Yifan’s arms, and they collapsed in a pile of limbs.

Yixing scarcely had the time to marvel that the unbound feeling must be what Yifan feels all the time before Yifan was upon him again, his fingers unbelievably real as they attacked all the weaknesses Yixing never bothered to hide from him. Yixing was fully breathless with laughs coming out more as huffs by the time Yifan sat back, done with his attack. 

“Honestly, you’re just like an overgrown child.” Yifan had asserted, patting Yixing after having tickled him so horribly. “You just need to be tossed a few times and tickled and then you’ll be satisfied for a few more minutes.” 

Yifan! How did he forget about Yifan, where is he? Sure, they spend time apart, but not three days without seeing each other time apart, especially in times like these. 

The piano track that had been stuck in his mind for the past few days drifts to an end as Yixing suddenly remembers a feeling of gently floating over solid ground, carried in the arms of a ghost to salvation, this house. Even if Yifan was recovering the energy exerted by having to stay solid for so long, it would’ve only taken a day, a day and a half at most. Why was Yifan carrying him anyways? 

But Yixing doesn’t get much else besides that, a fog running over the rest with that tune starting to play again. If only there was a piano for him to pin the tune down on and finally get it out of his head.

“Yixing? What’s wrong?” Chanyeol snaps him out of his reverie, looking concerned, and Yixing realizes with a sudden start that he had shown his concern on his face, staring off into space for too long.

“No, nothing. Just suddenly realized that my feet are really dirty.” Yixing sprouts off, not quite sure what he’s saying.

“Ah. I’ll leave you to get washed then.” Chanyeol smiles again, but there’s still doubt in his eyes as he takes the wheelchair and wheels it out, indeed leaving Yixing to get washed alone. 

~~~

The rain is pouring when Yixing settles in for the night, Yifan still nowhere to be found and Yixing is completely determined to keep him in the forefront of his mind. He can walk again, so now what’s important is finding out how he ended up here. Even if it’s still furiously raining tomorrow, he’s going to have to go outside and figure out what happened.

Yifan haunts his dreams, and even though Yixing steps down the steps of the house, the rain pours heavier and heavier, until it’s more or less a continuous bucket pouring down right over him. Yixing doesn’t think he could breathe properly, much less see, and his left leg aches the further he struggles on, hurting more and more until Yixing’s completely crumbled over from the pain, unable to bear putting any more weight on it. 

The only good news when he wakes is that it’s not raining as hard as his dreams did, just a light shower that gently patters against the windows. Baekhyun isn’t at breakfast today either, just Chanyeol sitting there alone, so Yixing spends the whole time of Chanyeol slowly waking up fully thinking about how to ask to borrow an umbrella.

“Hey, do you have anything you really want to do today?” Chanyeol asks all of a sudden, dropping his spoon into his empty bowl.

“Huh? No, do you have something you want to do?” Yixing speaks on instinct before he thinks, and internally slaps himself as Chanyeol’s eyes light up.

“I have something to show you.” Chanyeol smiles, getting up as he takes his bowl to the sink. Yixing follows, hoping that it would be short so there’ll still be time to go out later.

“So you said that you’re majoring in dance?” Chanyeol confirms, leading the way forwards to a part of the house Yixing had not stepped foot in.

“Yeah. What about it?” Yixing asks, as Chanyeol pulls open a door and they walk down another hallway, this one without any special type of paint.

“Well, this isn’t exactly a dance studio or anything,” the door that Chanyeol pushes open protests, squeaking all the way to its final position, “but if you want to dance, you could use this.” 

At first it doesn’t look like much, just a large and very empty room. Yixing could very distinctly hear the sound of the rain pattering against the windows outside, but it’s just a large and empty space. It might be dark without light, but it’s a place to dance, so Yixing doesn’t really have a place to disagree.

The huge curtains fly open with a huge swing caused by Chanyeol roughly pulling them open, and Yixing thinks he might’ve gasped. It’s not just a large open space, it’s a full ballroom, complete with an unlit chandelier, and a grand staircase that leads from a higher platform all the way down to the dance floor that Yixing is right in the middle of. There’s not a speck of dust anywhere, despite the age that the door betrays, and the color of everything is so vibrant, from the paint on the stairs to the polished floorboards and the fabric of the curtains. It’s a gorgeous place, straight out of movies and dramas, and Chanyeol’s offering it for him to use, all by himself. 

Then the curtains on the back wall fly open, and Yixing turns around with a start, not aware those gold curtains were also able to open. Instead of staring at gold-dusted walls, Yixing stares straight at himself, looking at an almost complete floor length mirror running the whole length.

“Baekhyun likes to paint on walls, but we couldn’t let him paint on these walls, so his father had these mirrors installed. And since we both don’t really like looking at ourselves, we just kinda stayed away from this part of the house.” Chanyeol explains, looking fond at his recollection of Baekhyun. “But if you want to dance with a mirror, then you’ll be able to use this room a lot better than it’s ever been used before.”

“I don’t know how I can properly thank you for this, this is perfect.” Yixing bows to Chanyeol, gratitude blossoming in his chest in a way it had rarely done before. 

“Just want to make sure that you’re happy.” Chanyeol mentions offhandedly, a smile coming onto his own face. “Is there anything else you want? So you don’t have to thank me again?”

“Can I use an umbrella later?” Yixing blurts out, despite knowing very well that it’s just a joke. 

“An umbrella? Of course, there’s always one in the main hall. Do you want to go outside?” Chanyeol unloops a chord from a hook that Yixing didn’t see before, slowly lowering the chandelier to just about chest height, pulling out a box of matches as he strides towards the massive amount of candles in the middle of the room, striking one and holding a little flame.

“I think it’ll be good for me to be able to see where I came from, so I could remember what exactly I was doing,” Yixing explains, taking the matchbox that Chanyeol offers to help start lighting the candles, starting at the highest in the middle.

“Of course, you should try and remember as soon as possible.” Chanyeol nods, shaking out his little match as Yixing finishes lighting the last candle. “Well, I’m going to take my leave, the floor is yours.” 

Yixing smiles at that pun, light dancing and falling around as Chanyeol slowly pulls up the rope holding the chandelier in place, securing it once more after fully elevating it once again.

“I’m going to make the most of it.” Yixing calls after Chanyeol’s retreating back, getting a wave in return.

“Oh, Yixing?” Chanyeol stops just shy of stepping out the actual door, pausing for a moment, as if suddenly remembering something. 

“Yeah?”

  
  
“Don’t thank me, Baekhyunnie was the one who had remembered this place exists in the first place.” Chanyeol gives Yixing one final wave before closing the door, leaving Yixing inside the ballroom, newly converted into a dance studio.

Yixing flops gracefully onto the floor, a range of emotions and items that he needs to sort through fast. Chanyeol still acts completely like a normal person, no indication whatsoever of anything different, though he just feels suspicious, a part of Yixing’s soul telling him that there’s just something slightly off. Baekhyun learned that Yixing dances as a major and then found this ballroom for him to dance in, which, now with the knowledge of the mirrors, is basically a really large dance studio but without the studio part. Honestly, if Yixing stares into the mirrors for a bit, he’ll probably be able to convince himself that the grand staircase is just a background, a really elaborately painted one, but just a normal background, letting him dance without a single worry in this giant hall. 

~~~

Yixing picks up an umbrella and walks out of the house. The first thing that he realises is that it’s still very much very cold, the way the wind blows and roars at him. But he promised himself he’s getting to the bottom of this, so he’s getting to the bottom of this. He grits his teeth, opens the umbrella, and walks down the stairs into the light rain.

Yixing had given in to the voice in his head that told him to dance instead of going out into the cold rain, despite the fact that there is no music he could listen to accompany his dance. The song was all in his head, and Yixing tried to dance in beat to the rain, just to see what would happen. Thankfully, the rain hadn’t gotten worse in the time he spent inside. If anything, it almost seems to have slightly lessened to an extent.

The path leading up to the road indeed is a dirt one, and Yixing follows it to the end uneventfully. It ends in a broken stone bridge, no visible means of crossing the little chasm suddenly in his way. It seems about two or three meters across, and Yixing might have taken that little class in ballet, it’s not nearly enough for this distance. How did he cross this? Did he even come from this way?

“I hate you.” A voice appears next to his ear, and Yixing starts, his instincts having become rusty after just a few days of not being used to the experience of being in tune to what Yifan is doing as well.

“Fan!” Yixing lunges at the taller ghost, and thankfully Yifan is solid, or this would’ve ended up in Yixing on the floor probably nursing a hairline fracture in his bones or something.

“You stupid, stupid overgrown fool.” Yifan groans, even as he pulls Yixing in for a tighter hug than the one Yixing is in fact giving him, his umbrella abandoned on the ground. 

“Where were you these past few days?” Yixing asks, still tight in the ghost’s embrace.

“Haunting this earth like the rest of the dead. What about you? How is your leg? You can walk?” Yifan pulls back, scanning Yixing up and down like an aunt at one of his family reunions.

“Yeah? It was just a gash, why wouldn’t it be healed by now?” Yixing asks, picking up his umbrella and using it to shield them from the rain. A confused look crosses Yifan’s look, immediately chased by a darker one. Oh. What happened?

“Yixing, what’s wrong? Are the people in there mistreating you?” With a 6th sense that is more accurate than Professor Chu feeling that someone is sleeping in his class, Yifan reads him, immediately sensing something’s off.

“They’re not hurting me, they’re actually pretty nice, and it’s just Baekhyun and Chanyeol. I just woke up without remembering how I got there.” Yixing explains. The furrow in between Yifan’s brow grows. 

“What do you mean you forgot how you got there?” 

“I just don’t know what happened for me to get to the house.” At Yifan’s almost murderous look, Yixing rolls it back a notch. “I mean, I remember sitting on the train with you, and I remember that you carried me to the door and ringing the doorbell, but like I don’t remember any of the other stuff in between. What happened?”

“You need to get out of the house.” Yifan declares immediately. 

“What?” Yixing expected a reaction, but not one this severe.

“This isn’t some low rated horror movie where the dude doesn’t know what’s going on, there’s something wrong and you need to get out of the house.” Yifan snaps, aggressive about this point.

“I don’t know where we are, and I don’t even know how to get home from here. Where would I go?” Yixing asks, something in him finding it very hard to leave the almost carefree life inside the house.

“I know where we are, and I could just float around and find our way out of this mess. But you have to get out of that house first.” Yifan argues.

“What happened with the house that makes you so against it anyways?” Might as well get reasoning for this.

“Right, you don’t remember.” Yifan calms a bit, thinking about it. “We got off the train at the right stop and you wanted to take a shortcut, so I followed you down the dirt path in the forested area by the train station. It looked like it was going straight, but I went back and walked it and apparently it was just slightly curved, so we ended up at this bridge, on the other side of it. You lost your mind for no reason and jumped across this bridge, and when you landed here.” Yifan taps the stone bridge under his foot quickly, “you seemed like you broke a leg, and I carried you to that house so you could get treatment. I didn’t know that you would come out with a completely fixed leg and your memories of all this lost, or I would’ve just carried you through the woods home.”

“You don’t even know the way out of the woods.” Yixing rebutes, finding it all a bit off. There’s a settling feeling inside his chest that says Yifan’s events are the truth, and the confused feeling of not knowing settles somewhere on a rib. “And they haven’t mistreated me, I wasn’t able to come out before because Chanyeol had me wear a cast for a little bit…”

“See? And even if they really are as nice as you say, why would they trick you?”

“Besides wearing a cast and telling me that my leg wasn’t broken, neither of them have really actually hurt me. Baekhyun has a bad illness and doesn’t seem like he has enough strength to be awake half the time.” Yixing defends, not sure why he feels so strongly for two people he hasn’t even known a week.

“Well, don’t you feel that there’s even the slightest bit off about one of them?” Yifan hits it on the nose, and judging from how he reacts to Yixing’s reaction, it seems like he knows it.

“Okay, Chanyeol does seems to be a bit off, but he’s also been so nice, making me food and helping me heal.”

“Okay, is Chanyeol the tall guy who opened the door?” Yixing nods, not entirely sure what it has to do with anything. “I followed you into the house, you know. You had fainted when you tried to walk in, and Chanyeol caught you, and brought you in, along with your bag. He took you to a bedroom and set your leg in a cast, and you looked horrible. Like I was pretty convinced you had a fever from the way you were acting, but he just whispers something to you and then you were completely calm, just sleeping. Then he just stands up and looks into my eyes and like hisses something out in a language that is not from this world, and I found myself being blasted out of the house. I’ve been trying to get back in ever since, but I can’t. He blocked me from entering.”

“Oh.” That is very suspicious. And Yixing had thought for a portion of time that he was the only person in the world who knew about ghosts. 

“Yes. So can you please leave? We should go home, and stop bothering in all of this mess.” Yifan pleas, looking so exhausted out by the conversation.

“I can’t leave just now, there’s something I need to figure out about the house first.” Yixing didn’t realize that it was a reason, but after the words came out his mouth, it’s pretty clear to him that that is actually his goal. But why? 

“Can’t you figure it out at home? Like in your bed and thinking about memories?” Yifan begs, rolling his eyes at Yixing’s look. “Fine. But can we please leave soon? You already broke your leg, I don’t want anything else worse that could happen to you to happen.”

“Okay. I promise.” Yixing swears, and Yifan nods.

“Can you do it in one week?” Yifan knows that he needs deadlines to get anything completed, damn his extensive knowledge of how Yixing ticks.

Regardless, Yixing still nods. “One week.”

~~~

Chanyeol had asked about how it was going when Yixing came to the dining room for dinner, and Yixing spits something out about finding the end of the stone bridge but not knowing how he could’ve gotten over it, or how else he could’ve came. Chanyeol doesn’t seem the most convinced, but he nods and talks about how Yixing should explore more to find out where he came from, but tomorrow. Baekhyun wasn’t at dinner either, and Yixing escaped into his haven, the dance studio. It might not be the one he’s accustomed to, but it’s a place to dance and that’s all that matters.

That night, Yixing dreams about jumping the bridge, the fear of flightlessness combined with the weight of being able to resist gravity. He doesn’t break his leg this time but does heavily cut his left leg, Yifan too weak to do much else besides float his bag over. This time, he walks to the house with his bloody leg, every other step a red mess that the pouring rain doesn’t seem to be able to wash away, and at the very end, sees someone standing on the steps. It’s himself, staring out at the fog at the approaching figure, but it’s also Baekhyun just in the doorway of the front door, staring at him, void of emotion on his face. 

Baekhyun opens his mouth to speak, mouthing two words as he stares down Yixing with an urgency he’s certainly feeling as he drags his useless leg forwards, but before he finishes the sentence, Yixing’s evil clone starts to move. Not down the steps like Yixing always did, but up them, moving to Baekhyun and sending a chill down his spine as Yixing feels exactly what he’s going to do. The clone cuts Baekhyun off just as he is about to finish the last word, wrapping his hands around Baekhyun’s pretty, delicate throat, sending him falling down almost instantaneously and transforming into Yifan, who drops Baekhyun’s body and floats towards Yixing now stuck in place.

“This is the best for you.” Chanyeol’s voice comes out instead, and Yixing drifts away as piano music starts to play.

It’s actually not raining today, more of a heavy gloom hanging overhead threatening rain but nothing falling, perhaps the first time since he came that it happened.

Yixing scarfs down breakfast as soon as possible, ready to go outside and talk more to Yifan, or just actually wander around and scout the area. As he prepares to leave, a thunderstorm starts up, complete with lightning bolts down to the ground that almost seems to linger in the dirt, purposefully threatening Yixing. He spends the rest of the day split between the ballroom and Baekhyun’s hallway, plucking out a tune as he watches the painter work, wishing that it would be on the piano instead.

The next morning is perhaps the first morning that Yixing had awoken to dawn, yellows and oranges and reds painted across the horizon as the sun finally shines for once. Yixing eats breakfast even faster today, trying to get out of the house before it inevitably starts raining again.

He gets all the way to the porch, Chanyeol following him out with a croissant, seeing if Yixing would actually get to go out or not. And it seems like he could, the rain halted, nothing happening, and Yixing finally takes his first step out from under the covering.

The only warning they get is the huge and heavy drop onto Yixing’s head, and then two or three more, before they all start falling, one after another onto the ground before the clouds have even truly turned. 

“Oh look at that. I don’t think you’ll be able to work today either.” Chanyeol remarks, holding a hand out to catch some of the raindrops falling. He regards the mess of raindrops spattering and rolling out of his cupped hand for a second, before straightening his fingers, flicking the remaining raindrops off. “Well,” he smiles, turning back to Yixing and wiping his hand off onto his shirt, “want some tea?”

“Sure.” Yixing accepts slowly, turning around to follow Chanyeol in. When he looks back once more before stepping over the threshold into the house again, the sky is completely grey, spitting out huge raindrops that hit the ground like masses of sparks jumping out the fire and to their end. 

Baekhyun joins them for tea today, a streak of red across his forehead that Chanyeol wipes off and tells him to be more careful next time, because how did he manage to get paint on his forehead? Baekhyun does nothing about it, just pouts and smiles and wrings Yixing’s heart at all the right moments, and it’s now that Yixing thinks he might be falling.

Sure, he had known he was bisexual for a good amount of time, ever since his past girlfriend showed him a picture of the top male idol and he had felt the same sort of attraction as her towards him, but ever since breaking up with her, he had just simply been too busy for a relationship, or to even feel anything besides tired and not tired. So of course it has to be under another time restraint that Yixing finally gets to think about himself for once and finds that he’s actually thinking about someone else. It’s so stupid. 

He wants to leave and find Yifan and rant about it, but then Baekhyun quirks his head and asks with his eyes if Yixing would join him for his newest fresco, and Yixing, putty under Baekhyun’s hands, follows.

The guitar is a poor substitute for the piano, but Yixing figures he can just deal in times like this, when Baekhyun decides he wants a nap instead of painting, and curls up on the floor, head in Yixing’s lap as he carefully plays a tune, trying not to move too much to disturb the sleeping boy.

Eventually his brain runs out of things to play, and before Yixing even fully realizes, his fingers are plucking out the notes of that piano tune stuck in his head, but they come out bastardized, a false imitation of the actual instrument. 

It’s after what must’ve been the 5th time in a row of him strumming the same melody that Baekhyun sits up harshly, nearly banging his head on the underside of the guitar and sending himself into a coma.

“Where did you hear that tune?” Yixing shrugs at the question, not sure why it got Baekhyun so bothered.

“It just started playing in my head and now I can’t get it out.” He answers truthfully, and Baekhyun scribbles something else down.

“Is it a piano tune?”

“Yeah.” Does Baekhyun have the same melody?

“Can you play it out on the piano?” Yixing shrugs, nodding.

“Probably. But Chanyeol said that you don’t have a piano.” 

Baekhyun shakes his head, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “He’s always so forgetful. We have a piano, but he doesn’t like to play it and I don’t play it so we put it upstairs, and I think he forgot about it. Want me to show you where it is?

“Yes please.” Yixing says, getting up to hang the guitar up. Baekhyun raises two hands, asking to be pulled up, and Yixing obeys because why would he not? Instead of letting go when he’s finally up, however, Baekhyun grips Yixing’s hand tighter in his own and pulls him along, heading up. 

They get to the room at the end of Baekhyun’s hallway, and they step in gently.

This room punches Yixing in the gut, because it is so apparent that it is lived in, used, unlike all the other empty bedrooms in the manor with their perfect sheets and dustless floors. This is a room that someone uses. That Baekhyun uses.

“Is this your room?” Yixing asks.

Baekhyun nods slightly, a dusting of red coming over his cheeks as he drops Yixing’s hand to pull on a cord, a trapdoor opening for a stair-like contraption to descend into the room.

Baekhyun steps up first, waving a hand for Yixing to follow. Yixing waits until he’s sure that Baekhyun is completely up and no longer on the wooden structure before he dares to move, taking his first steps up. It’s weird, and while he really shouldn’t, Yixing can still see the rain as he climbs, the monotonous lines falling across his vision and down onto the nonexistent ground underneath him. The piano music swells but slowly dies away when Yixing stands up straight again and Baekhyun takes his hand, pointing to a singular piano in the room, lit up only by the light coming from the window.

“Is this the piano?” Baekhyun nods, but then doubles over, heaving and coughing, his body reacting badly to something in the air.

“Are you okay?” Yixing asks, concerned as Baekhyun brushes it off, straightening up and nodding. There are tears in his eyes, and Yixing wants to immediately rush him downstairs and get him some water, but Baekhyun, as if already seeing Yixing’s next actions, shakes his head, motioning for Yixing to sit on the piano stool.

Yixing also realizes that this is the only room he’s seen with dust in it, flying around, settled on top of this upright piano and flying around in the air around them. Even the ballroom wasn’t dusty, and the door creaks when opening, needing oiling and more use.

Baekhyun moves his fingers, pushing Yixing towards the seat, as if asking for Yixing to please just sit down and start playing. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll play.” Yixing smiles, watching Baekhyun stand a bit off to the side after Yixing had sat. “You can sit too.” Yixing quickly brushes off a layer of dust from the seat next to him, and Baekhyun sits down, resting his head against Yixing’s shoulder as Yixing moves his hands into position, getting ready to play.

The keys themselves are not dusty, but the cover of the piano is covered with a fine layer. Yixing raises it gently, trying hard to not disturb the dust and accidentally send it towards Baekhyun.

Middle C is not really middle C. It’s slightly lower, almost like a B flat rather than a true middle C. Yixing tests a few more notes, before warming up with a slow scale, testing the piano out. It’s not tuned, but it’s a piano, and Yixing can play it.

He closes his eyes, and lets his fingers move, playing the first few notes of his piece, but this is not his piece that he’s trying to play, so Yixing veers off at the end of the measure, following the noes his brain wishes so desperately to put out. 

This is the song that Yixing hears playing, off-tune piano and all, and there is nothing left besides himself and Baekhyun, and this tune, covering up his tracks, covering up his mind, and covering up himself. 

“Yixing.” A croaky voice gasps.

Yixing snaps to attention as Baekhyun coughs, clearly not used to using his voice.

“You can talk?” Yixing asks, confused. Baekhyun’s voice might be rough and hoarse from disuse, but it’s light, and one of the sweetest tunes he thinks he’s heard.

Baekhyun nods, giving another cough or two. “It hurts.” He taps his throat and Yixing nods.

“If it hurts you to talk, then you don’t need to. You can just write things down, right?” Baekhyun nods, and then raises his empty hands. Ah, he didn’t bring the whiteboard.

“You don’t have to keep playing.” Baekhyun presses a few notes on his own, demonstrating the feverish way Yixing had kept pressing those keys to try and get the song out of his head. Yixing nods, still hearing the chord progression, but the song already sliding out of his head. He remembers everything now, the song was the reason he couldn’t think rationally in the first place, and now he doesn’t have to think about it ever again.

“What is that song?” Yixing asks, watching as Baekhyun plays the simple tune on his own, slower than Yixing but still accurately capturing its sad nature.

“My curse.”

Yixing’s horror must’ve been apparent enough because Baekhyun breaks into a smile, taking his hands off the keys. 

Yifan floats through the walls, finally able to come into the house at about the time Chanyeol sticks his head into the little piano room, looking strangely transparent.

“You can leave now?” Chanyeol asks, and Baekhyun nods, his smile only growing the more everyone stares. 

~~~

“So every time it rains, the boy is stuck in the house, unable to leave, suffering for the rest of time.” 

The chorus of silence is broken by laughing, as everything smiles at that ridiculous ghost story.

“C’mon Jongin, that ghost story isn’t even a ghost story. It’s a love story, and you know it!” Zitao laughs, shoving a very offended Jongin back into his place on the couch.

“It’s real! Yixing-hyung told me!” Jongin protests.

“Look, just because he’s the same major as you and you adore the dirt in his shoes doesn’t mean it’s real. It just means it’s a good story.” Sehun inputs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“It’s definitely real, look, Yixing-hyung!” Jongin spies him out of the corner of his eyes and beckons the older boy over, needing evidence.

“Yeah Jongin?” Yixing asks, dragging one slightly smaller boy with silver hair over, the two always seen together.

“Tell then that the ghost story is real. The one you told me about the house and the ghosts and sickly boy who lives inside.” Jongin pouts, while the other guys stare expectantly.

Baekhyun smiles knowingly at Yixing, nodding to the guys seriously.

“Every single word of it is real, and every single detail.” Yixing replies with a straight face, and the other guys groan.

“You can’t expect me to believe that someone was cursed beauty and the beast style but instead of falling in love they have to find someone who could play the same tune on the piano.” Zitao complains.

“It’s true.” Yixing nods.

“And the caretaker of the boy turning out to be a powerful ghost who was just bound to the house?” Kyungsoo chimes in, a doubtful eyebrow raising.

“Hey, I thought that was kinda believable.” Sehun mutters.

“Don’t encourage him.” Jongdae kicks Sehun gently, “He told this story just because you two are afraid of ghosts, no need to boost his ego.”

“We don’t blame you, Yixing-hyung, he’s just gone completely crazy ever since that ghost scare last year, so it’s best not to encourage him.” Kyungsoo says, willingly enduring the injured pouting from Jongin.

Baekhyun laughs as they walk away from the still bickering group, not much help offered in terms of the argument. “Really? You told him?” He says, careful to not talk too loudly for fear of straining his vocal cords.

“Jongin wanted a ghost story, and I panicked.” Yixing responds, offended. 

Baekhyun shakes his head, smiling all the while as he leans over to kiss Yixing’s cheek. 

“Oh right, your exhibition is next week right?” Baekhyun nods and Yixing continues on, “Yifan reminded me earlier, he also told me that Chanyeol told me to make sure you’re eating properly and taking your medicine on time.

Baekhyun huffs, rolling his eyes in a motion that only could mean exhaustion geared towards the elder, so fixed in his ways of making sure that Baekhyun, as the owner of the house he haunts, doesn’t die that he still contracts Yixing to do it for him. Yixing’s happy to do so. SM Academy goes hard, and even though you can see that he’s a genius just by looking at his art, his immune system is still quite delicate.

But for now, Yixing pushes open the doors leading into the morning sun, lazy gold dripping over everything as life wakes to a beautiful day. There’s still leftover dew from the early morning shower that dusted everything with a light rain, round and hard like little pearls on the plants, a break from the weather who had decided to take “April showers brings May flowers” a bit too seriously, and covering all of spring instead of just April. The day is muted, but there’s a muted happiness willing to spring out.

The wind blows some drops off the tree onto them and Yixing shudders as one rolls down the back of his shirt, to Baekhyun’s great amusement. 

Things are okay. It’s no longer raining.  
  



End file.
